


Smooth

by VagrantWriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Do I Need to Spell It Out?, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Facial Shaving, Not Head Shaving Either, Ramsay is his own warning, Shaving, past genital mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagrantWriter/pseuds/VagrantWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reek needs some maintenance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> Usual warnings apply. Generally just some creepy-ass bad-touch stuff in here.

The shackles were really just to keep him from crawling away; he stopped moving on his own once Ramsay took out the razor. “Please,” he murmured, but didn’t fight when Ramsay yanked his legs apart.

“Now, Reek,” Ramsay scolded with a click of his tongue, “the maester says we need to keep you clean down there while you’re healing. That means no hair. You should appreciate this. It’s the closest thing to a bath you’re going to get in quite some time.”

Reek whimpered. “Please. I’m _not_ Reek.”

Ramsay scowled, but at least Reek wasn’t insisting he was someone else. The gelding had taken most of the fight out of him, but not all. These days, instead of spitting and cursing at his tormentors, he tended to cry, sometimes silent weeping, other times full-body-wracking sobs. It was a start, at least. Ramsay was beginning to chisel _Theon Greyjoy_ down to the clean slate he wanted. The clean slate he would build _Reek_ from.

“You _are_.” Setting the razor aside, Ramsay reached for the brush and cup. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Reek’s eyes had gone wide and hopeful when Ramsay had first appeared in his cell holding a cup in his hands, no doubt thinking water was coming. How frustrated he must be now to find it was just soap. It was tempting to force his head back and make him drink it like it was water. Maybe when he was done. Right now, there was work to do. The maester had said hair would cause infection, and Ramsay didn’t want Reek to die before he’d even accepted who he was. With the brush, he worked the soap into a lather inside the cup, then knelt on Reek’s shins to keep him from jerking.

Of course, a few moments spent studying his handiwork before getting to work wouldn’t hurt. That empty space between Reek’s legs that needed tending. It was red and puffy, too enflamed to even properly see the scar forming. It wasn’t like other amputations, like the soldiers who’d lost their limbs on the battlefield. It wasn’t a _proud_ scar, the kind these Ironborn scum wore like badges of honor. It was a medical scar, the telltale sign of a defect that had needed correcting. The way his father’s leeches removed bad blood. Unsightly because it _needed_ _to be_ unsightly.

Ramsay began applying the lather. Reek squirmed in discomfort as he spread the soap in the hollow space between his protruding hip bones.

“Is it sensitive?”

“It hurts.”

Ramsay laughed. “You’d better stop that when I start cutting.” Satisfied with the thick and even application, he set the brush in the cup and took up the razor again. The pulse in Reek’s throat jumped, but the body underneath him remained as still as a corpse. “That’s it.” Ramsay steadied him with a hand on his waist. His fingers nearly reached all the way around Reek’s scrawny middle. So small and fragile. Ramsay had to be careful to break him in the right way. “Good boy.”

Ramsay lined the razor up along the outside of the scar, letting the edge sink until it brushed skin, then slowly and gently ran it outwards towards Reek’s hip. He wondered if Reek was startled at the gentleness of it, but Ramsay had deft fingers. You didn’t learn to flay without having deft fingers. When he reached the hip, he took the razor up and wiped it on the hem of Reek’s pants, discarded and lying to the side. Bits of foam and coarse, curly hair came away. A line of clean, pink skin was left amidst the lather.

“Good boy,” Ramsay repeated. “Just like that.” He repeated the movement, an inch above the first stroke, working meticulously. “Remember not to move. I’d hate to nick you down here.” And just to prove his point, he dug the razor just a hair deeper. Reek yelped and bucked his hips, and the patch that was left behind bubbled up with blood.

“Please.” Reek’s eyes were large, his lips pulled tight enough to drain the color from them. “Please.” But he didn’t say anything else.

Ramsay was careful not to nick him again. Once was enough. And the chunk of flesh he’d taken out was larger than he’d intended. It was still bleeding by the time he moved to the other side of the scar and began working the opposite direction. Now that a large patch of hair had been removed, Ramsay could marvel at how smooth the skin was underneath, if a little red and irritated. He stopped working a moment to run his free hand over Reek’s hip and over his mound.

He chuckled to himself at that. “You have a mound now, Reek. Like a maid.”

Reek watched him with uncomprehending eyes.

“You’re smooth and silky like a maid, too. Like a little girl.”

Reek laid his head against the cold stones and stared up at the ceiling. “Please,” his lips mouthed.

Ramsay finished the other side. Then nudged Reek’s legs farther apart so he could get the very inside of his thighs. That was the most delicate part, the uneven area between his scar and his puckered anus. Reek needed to lift his hips for that, and he trembled violently—either from fear or simply lack of strength—which added another layer of difficulty. Ramsay managed it, though. And he didn’t nick his new creature. Not once.

“There, all done.” He patted Reek’s flank, and Reek collapsed back onto the floor with a relieved sigh. “See, that wasn’t so difficult. And look how nice and clean you are now.” Ramsay lowered his head and breathed in the lingering scent of blood mingling with soap. “We’ll fix that later. You being nice and clean, that is. But right now you need to heal. I’ll call the maester in to put new bandages on. He says you soiled the last ones.”

Reek let a single sob escape.

“What’s that? No ‘please’ this time?”

A tear slid down Reek’s face. “Why? It’s not going to change anything.”

“See? You’re beginning to learn.” Ramsay crawled up Reek’s body to plant a kiss on his forehead. “My sweet Reek.”

**Author's Note:**

> I plan to start posting my next multi-chapter fic after the last GoT episode airs, so next week sometime. Check back then.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, and/or leaving kudos.


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